Why I teach my kids to believe in Santa...and why I believe, too.

Apparently everyone out there is a way better parent than I am.  During the recent Christmas season - while I was trying to teach my kids to do chores and brush their teeth - everyone else was preoccupied with whether or not Santa Clause would destroy their children.  When I saw how widespread and hotly debated this topic was, I thought, "Really?  This is the biggest problem you face in child rearing?  I must be doing something wrong."

I read the articles, though - both the heartfelt pleas to keep the magic alive and the vehement indictments of Santa as a liar, fraud and anti-Christ - and I felt largely unswayed one way or the either.  Like I said, I had bigger concerns, and I really couldn't see this as the thing that would make or break a child.  However, the Christmas of 2013 brought something with it that I had never experienced and has convinced me that teaching my children about Santa is the right thing to do - for one simple reason:  Christmas of 2013 made me believe in Santa.

First, I should probably explain that I hate Christmas.  I hate the parties, the massive amounts of poor diet choices, the gift giving, the decorating, the stress, the crowds, the increase in social obligations at the same time that you have all of the other end of the year commitments...pretty much everything.  I am Christian, but I see no connection between Christ and Christmas, so I would be first in line to vote the holiday out of existence if such an election ever occurred.

My wife, on the other hand LOVES Christmas.  In fact, this polarity of emotion towards Christmas is probably the biggest sore spot in our marriage.  Luckily, it is a battle that only gets fought once a year.  It is also a battle that I lose every year, which is why my children also love Christmas, and I am not allowed to spoil it for them.  So I play along, grudgingly.

As December of 2013 rolled around, we found ourselves at the end of a very rough year.  We had moved across the country and lost our new house in a fire while it was uninsured. I had spent half the year unemployed, and the other half only working part time.  It was the first year we had to get government assistance, and our budget was very tight.  On top of all that, my wife was due to deliver a baby any time between December 25th and January 5th.  Christmas was in serious jeopardy.

We had no Christmas decorations, no money to buy any, and I knew that I would not have any work for the last two weeks of the month.  We couldn't afford presents, a nice Christmas dinner, or a tree. Definitely not a tree.  How could we possibly justify buying a tree when we could barely keep gas in the tank or pay our heating bill?  My vote was that we cancel Christmas, and I could tell that my wife was considering - for the first time ever - switching her party affiliation, which would mean a landslide victory for me.  But then something happened.

It started with a simple gift.  Our town had a "winter wonderland" with a holiday train, Christmas light show, a large nativity, and ice skating.  One of the men at church gave me a family pass to take my kids on the train and go ice skating.  It was bitterly cold, but my 18 month old son loved it ('train' was a full 10% of his vocabulary at the time), and my three daughters sang Christmas carols during the entire ride.

Later that week we received an anonymous delivery - a large basket with a ham, rolls, potatoes, pies, sparkling apple cider - everything needed for a very nice holiday dinner, as well as gift cards for buying a few small gifts for the kids.  We knew the basket came from combined donations of members of the congregation where we attended church, and their generosity was humbling and deeply appreciated.

Next, we got a free Christmas tree.  My wife and I had come to a compromise that we would go down to Wal-Mart the weekend before Christmas and buy a tree if they were given a last minute mark off, and if any were left.  We found a couple dozen trees remaining - and Wal-Mart was giving them away for free.  We had a tree.

The next day we received an envelope that was unmarked on the outside, but clearly a Christmas card.  From its appearance it could have been any generic card, like the ones doctors and dentists send out to all their patients, or over zealous card givers give to everyone they know without marking anything personal on it.  But neatly enclosed with the card were five crisp hundred dollar bills - enough money to carry us through two weeks of unemployment.

Then the VA gave us a holiday box.  Our name had been given to them as a family in need, and so we received a turkey, yams, stuffing, potatoes, corn, cranberry sauce, juice - everything to make a second holiday meal, as well as candy canes and oranges to stuff stockings.

Finally, a pile of presents mysteriously arrived at our door on Christmas eve.  A large pile. Several gifts for each of our four children, and even a couple for my wife and I.  There were clothes, hats and mittens, and toys.  The meager allotment of presents that we had bought paled in comparison.  In fact, my children opened more presents that Christmas than they ever had during our good years.

This sudden outburst of generosity made me reflect on the events of the past year - it had been bad, but there had been a lot of goodness shown to us, too.  My mother-in-law had shared her small, 900 square foot home with my family of six for four months, giving up her nice bed and bedroom so that my pregnant wife didn't have to sleep on a couch.  Over fifty complete strangers had shown up to help us clean up the rubble of our destroyed home.  Someone even came and mowed the grass on our empty lot to keep it looking nice so that we could sell it.  None of them had asked for any compensation.  A church that we didn't even go to gave us a thousand dollars to help with clean up costs, and people had given us toys, furniture, and carpet to help us furnish our apartment when we finally got one.

I also pondered the story of Saint Nicholas - a man who generously gave to people in need.  His charity was not out of self-aggrandizement, but out of christian love for his fellow men.  His benevolence became the stuff of legend, and like all legends, it has lived on in many different forms.  One form is that of a jolly old soul in a red suit with eight reindeer and a sleigh full of toys.  But in its truest form, it lives on in a small town in Indiana.  I don't know who gave us all of the gifts that Christmas, but the signature on the gift basket, the card, and the presents was the same: From Santa.

So when someone asks why I teach my children to believe in Santa, I will tell them it is because I believe in Santa.  I know for a fact that there are people that carry on the tradition of St. Nicholas as they show Christ-like love to everyone around them.  I will teach my children that there is a Santa, and that he blessed our lives.  I will tell them that legend has it that he lives in the north pole and has reindeer and comes down the chimney, but that is just legend.  The truth is that we don't know who he is, or where he lives.  And as my kids grow up, they will realize for themselves who Santa really is and make sure the legend continues in the love and generosity they show to the people around them.